


Proof of Self

by rothalion



Category: Army Of Two (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:35:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rothalion/pseuds/rothalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nala borrows Elliot for a school show and tell assignment and tries to prove mathematically that he is every bit as responsible and mature as the rest of the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

      Eleven year old Nala Brittany-Ann Rios slipped a laminated map section from within her red Advanced Placement Algebra class binder. The section, cut from the USGA topographical map for the area around West Point Military Academy’s **Lake Frederick, and** folded with military precision, displayed the specific quadrants where, in three short weeks, the academy was holding its annual Spring Classic paint ball tournament. After a quick look at her instructor, an irascible man in his mid-forties who considered himself to be quite worldly based solely upon the argument that he’d managed to survive M.I.T., she slipped the eight inch by eight inch navigation tool into her forest green khaki, clad lap. Then, once he turned back to scribbling line after line of proofs on the cluttered white board, she deftly folded and re-folded it to reveal the area that she needed to memorize before getting home that evening, and then secreted it between the pages of her notebook.    

      This spring classic would be her third, and the first year that she would truly be a part of the team. Committing the topography to memory was a task given to her by Elliot and she refused to let her surrogate uncle down. Thinking about Elliot distracted her somewhat from the map and she felt a twinge of guilt. Elliot would not approve of such a lapse in attention. After trying to shake off her meandering thoughts, she began scrutinizing the map beginning in the upper left hand corner and working her way toward the right and then down an inch square by an inch square in the manner that he’d instructed her. As she studied the terrain features, inked out in varying shades of browns and greens, she visualized them in her mind’s eye as realistically as possible while pretending to walk along them. This, he’d told her, would make them a part of her memory just as firmly as if she’d walked them in person.

      The sound of Dr. Byquist venting his ire at a student slow to comprehend some aspect of the un-raveling proof shifted her attention once again from the map, to Elliot and with a slight shiver she recalled the unrest caused when he’d awoken the entire household at 0245 hours by beating their front door into submission and hollering for her father. Her mother, as was the norm, had been furious about the intrusion, while her father had shown his typical unconditional concern and support. After scolding his wife for her callous disregard and sending her back to bed, Tyson had ushered Salem into the room leaving Nala stranded outside the closed Cherry wood doors wondering what had set the often troubled man off this time.

      The girl sighed and made a long curved line with the finely sharpened grease pencil marking the steep ravine where she thought Salem would decide to set up their first sniper hide. The line showed the hide and their most effective field of fire. If she’d chosen correctly she knew that he would be quite proud of her. Setting the grease pencil aside she switched to her pencil and made several notations in her small waterproof notebook. It was an annotation to her supply and load out list. Just as she was finishing it the student behind her a freckle faced chubby boy with an enormous set of braces tapped her shoulder. The tap drew her attention and the next thing she heard was Dr. Byquist shouting her name.

      “Ms. Rios, the next line of the proof please, if you can spare a moment of your time.”

      Nala cringed and snapped the binder shut. The entire class was looking at her. When Byquist used that particular tone it was readily evident that somebody was in trouble.

      “We are all waiting Ms. Rios.”

      She cleared her throat and looked at the mass of math covering the white board. It had been at least fifteen minutes since she’d last studied the proof’s progress and Byquist was not going to allow her to take time to catch up. Caught flat footed, she asked herself ‘What would Salem do?’ The answer, she figured, was to just give the cranky Swede an answer in as confident of a voice that she could manage.

      “Big bracket, little bracket, chi sub -zero, plus psi sub-zero then…”

      “Really, Ms. Rios?” Byquist sniped bemusedly, “You certainly sound quite sure of yourself. So, why don’t you just march right on up here, bringing your little private project with, and write it down on my board. Once you finish you can share your little secret with the rest of us. Chop, chop, missy we do not have all day.”

      Nala huffed, a disgusted huff, and slid from her desk. She tucked the binder under her arm and plodded to the front of the class. Byquist held out his hand and snapped his pale, crinkly, well-manicured fingers toward the large red folder directing her to hand it over. She did so reluctantly, and then, began scribbling her answer down in green ink along the bottom of the proof.

      “Quite incorrect, and what have we here?” the teacher queried opening the binder, “Mr. Hadley please step up here and finish the proof. Let’s see, we have a map, a map with... is this some sort of military strategy Ms. Rios?”

      “Yes sir.”

      “And this this is a list of weapons?”

      “Yes sir.”

      “Ms. Rios are you aware of exactly how much money your parents and they are fine parents, pay to send you to our wonderful institution?”

      “$11,323.83 a year sir, plus a $943.72 activity fee, plus…”

      “Enough! I suppose that you are also aware of the long waiting list of very intelligent students who would kill to take your seat, in my A.P. Algebra class?”

      “They'd have a tough time killing me, but..." The instructor glared at her and she cut herself off,

“Not the exact number sir. But, when I applied the list had 863 and…”

      Byquist held his left hand up silencing her while he unfolded the map and studied it.

      “Where is this location, Ms. Rios?”

      “Lake Fredrick at West Point Military academy.”

      Dr. Byquist gasped and then, stared gape mouthed at the girl. His hands were now shaking and he’d begun sweating.

      “West, West Point, West Point the Military academy? That West Point! You are planning an attack on West Point, the very bastion of training for our finest military leaders!”

      The class broke protocol and a loud murmuring erupted. Nala looked over her shoulder at the group and then back to Byquist. The man was truly terrified. It was no secret that she played at war games with paint balls and Air Soft weapons, but to think that they believed she was planning some sort of home grown terror attack befuddled her.

      “Sir, no sir. I plan on going to school there. Why would I attack it? It’s for a paint ball tournament. The West Point Spring Classic. It’s my…”

      “Enough and come with me right now. We are reporting this to the proper authorities. You have sniper rifles and hand grenades on here. Dear lord, what is becoming of our children? The rest of you stay put. Someone will come and take over for me while I save West Point.”

      Twenty long miserable minutes later, Nala sat outside of Headmaster Laughlin’s huge toffee stained, Oak office door awaiting her fate. Dr. Byquist had remained inside after Laughlin had dismissed her. The pair had tried to contact her parents, but Samantha was in a court briefing and Tyson was at the dentist. Next in the loop of contacts were Samantha’s parents, but they too were un-reachable which, left Elliot and for this Nala was ecstatic. He would certainly understand why she’d risked studying the map during Algebra. He would appreciate her work ethic and understand that A.P. Algebra could wait.

      The sound of the outer office door opening caught her attention, and then, she heard the receptionist tersely address whoever had entered. Judging by the tone of the woman’s voice alone, Nala knew that it was Salem and she knew that the situation had just gotten off to a very bad start. All she could do was hope that whatever had set him off the night before was under control and that he’d left his temper out in his truck.

      “May I help you?”

      Salem stopped short and glared at the rail thin woman sitting behind what he figured had to be a multi-thousand dollar, solid Mahogany desk. Her hair shorn into what could pass as military for a man, and dyed an un-natural shade of blond barley covered her scalp, and her heavily starched and brutally pressed forest green and white academy uniform had creases so sharp that he was tempted to test them against his Randall fighting stiletto’s edge.

      “Got a call. Woke me up. Said to come exfil my niece.”

      Nope, Nala thought, he’s still not settled and probably still a bit drunk.

      “A call, your niece, exfil?”

      “Roger that. Where do I sign and the password is Barsukh.” He rambled on, while reaching for the clipboard, “Barsukh, here it is in Cyrillic. What’s her twenty?”

      “Her twenty? Ah, excuse my confusion, sir. I haven’t called for anyone to get their niece.” Then, peering around the huge desk a bit she furrowed her brow at his untidy attire, “Are you sure you have the correct school?”

      Salem noted her scorn and stood up a bit straighter.

      “Ms. Yancy, yes I have the correct school. She’s a sort of foster niece and what the hell does it matter what I am wearing? Just visiting, not here for an education. Winthrop Academy, been here before to watch her do extracurricular stuff. So, I’m pretty beat; can you just get her and I’ll be on my way.”

      “Does your _niece_ have a name?”

      “Nala Rios.”

      “Okay, now I understand. You are the one on the bottom of the contact list. Just…

      “What’s that supposed to mean!”

      “One moment please.”

      Ms. Yancy lifted the handset for her phone and punched a series of numbers without taking her eyes off of Elliot.

      “Sir, he’s here, the last one on the contact list and sir he is not, how should I put this?” She hesitated and smiled up at Salem who was now standing with his hands in the pockets of his knee-less Levis looking very agitated, “Well, he’s not attired appropriately for an audience with you, sir. Yes sir, explain it to him, certainly sir that’s why the academy pays me so well.”

      Nala, hearing this, cringed and fought the urge to charge into the front office and just bolt from the building with Elliot in tow. It would be a running retreat, but you win some and you lose some. Before she could move, Ms. Yancy was speaking once again.

      “Mr. Salem, you see we do appreciate your prompt response to our call, we truly do, but it would seem that in your haste to come to your, well your niece’s side, it seems that you neglected to recall that we, here at Winthrop Academy, have and maintain a very strict dress code and that dress code includes all visitors to the campus so, that being said, we would further appreciate if you would return home, shower, ah and well comb your hair, dress appropriately collar and Khakis, and come back.”

      “I see. Well Ms. Yancy you just pick up that phone, and you just get the Headmaster back up on comms and you tell him that I am coming in as is. Maybe he doesn’t feel like looking at me in my current attire, but I do not really give a fuck. I just got off of a transatlantic flight after dragging my little bitch ass around Afghanistan for two weeks cleaning up after some dumb fuck Marines and I am going to be two plus hours late taking my pain meds for my cracked shoulder blade from where I got shot by one of those same dumb ass Marines who was too stupid to tell a good guy from a bad guy. Are you beginning to understand where I am coming from Ms. Yancy? So up, up with the phone, because off I go.”

      Then, without another word Salem marched resolutely past her desk, grabbed Nala by her elbow and barged into Laughlin’s office.

      “Excuse me!” the startled man blurted out when Salem slammed the heavy door shut.

      “I’m here; And-A-Half is here, so speak. I need a sit-rep.”

      “A what?”

      “Clocks ticking, Laughlin.”

      “Dragon One?” Nala moaned.

      “Mr. One if you would just calm down I can…”

      “Salem name’s Salem, and what did you do to Nala?”

      “Us to her? Mr. Salem she’s plotting an attack on West Point. Sniper rifles, grenades, shot guns, a classic pincer attack she called it, to maximize a small unit against a larger force and utilizing tight terrain features to even the force sizes. It is all on this map. That is what is going on. That is an act of terrorism.”

      Salem furrowed his brow and sighed. All he wanted to do was take his medicine, drink and sleep until his shoulder stopped aching, which would be in about two weeks.

      “That the ravine in sector foxtrot two seven And-A-Half?”

      “Yes, Dragon One.”

      “Put the hide three and a quarter klicks south-south east in that craggy out cropping thirty meters up slope?”

      “Field of fire sixteen degrees to the west and fifty-five to the east with a marginal window to our six if we need it.”

      Laughlin and Byquist were staring at the duo as the conversation volleyed back and forth. No child should be so knowledgeable about warfare.

      “You are a part of her plot!” Byquist shouted.

      “Her plot, gentlemen, is for the West Point Spring Classic paint ball tournament. That’s all; paint ball, not terrorism. Now, that this is all settled, we’re outta here. Move out, And-A-Half. I hear your old man’s bed calling my name.”

      “You sleep in her father’s bed?”

      Salem stopped mid-turn and stared at the two men. Was there no end to their stupidity, he wondered.

      “Not _his_ bed but my bed, in his office, let’s go.”

      As they stepped forward the office door swung open nearly hitting them and Ms. Yancy surged in.

      “Sir, we have a small situation out here.”

      “What now, Yancy?”

      “Channels two, six, nine, thirteen and PBS and several other agencies are all here to report on the foiling, by one of our instructors, of a terror plot against West point orchestrated by an eleven year old student.”

      “How could they possibly know about this?” Laughlin shouted, “Byquist?”

      “I might have jumped the…well no pun intended, but jumped the gun a bit by posting that I’d done it on my Facebook and maybe calling channel thirteen.”

      “Got a back door out of this joint, Laughlin?”

      “No, why would I need one? Now what do I do?”

      “Don’t look at me, Harvey,” Ms. Yancy snapped, “You do not pay me enough to fend off this mob.”

      “Looks like we charge straight into ‘em And-A-Half, move out.”

      “Copy that, oh Mr. Laughlin sir, does this mean that I can’t bring my Dragon One back next week for show and tell? He’ll be properly dressed for his part in it and once he’s decompressed a bit from his last op he’ll be a lot easier to manage. I’ll even bring daddy. He can reign him in.”

      “Yes, of course, Yancy get me the mayor.”

      Salem and Nala pushed through Yancy and headed for the exit. To Salem’s dismay reporters clotted the exit and filled the parking lot. When they saw the couple coming, they converged on them.

      “Back off, no, there is no plot! Move and get that camera out of her face! I said…all right that’s fucking it!” Salem barked when an overly aggressive, channel two, cameraman shoved the lens of his camera right up to Nala’s face bumping her forehead with it.

      Salem pulled up short, reached behind his back and in a smooth motion un-holstered his little Makarov. He pointed it skyward, charged it and fired off three rounds in quick succession. Then, he grabbed the large video camera, threw it to the pavement and fired the remaining rounds into it. Finally, he dropped, and pocketed the empty clip and slammed a new one into the weapon.

The crowd recoiled and the duo continued un-encumbered toward his truck. Before they made it four police officers surrounded them.

      “Drop the weapon and get on the ground. You, little girl, move away from him. You’re safe now.”

      “Dragon One give me the gun.” Nala muttered sadly.

      He handed it to her grip first and got on the ground trying not to hurt his bad shoulder. She deftly dropped the new clip, held the weapon in between her right thumb and index finger and handed it and the clip to the nearest officer. Then, as two of the men were handcuffing Elliot with zero regard for his request that they not re-injure his shoulder, she squatted down beside him and reached into his front left pants pocket.

      “Gimme your phone, Uncle Elliot. I’ll call daddy.”

     


	2. Chapter 2

      Later that evening Nala sat for supper with her parents and grandparents on her mother’s side. The conversation filling the elegantly furnished dining room had remained firmly entrenched with the sorted events of the day. Having heard her fill of the adults’ petty arguing, the small girl only wanted was to excuse herself so that she could go to her bedroom and sulk. Her mother was adamant about keeping her away from Salem and her grandparents were staunchly supporting the move. What truly irritated her though was her father’s silence. He should be defending Salem. He needed to shut the trio up and show that he was the tried and true friend and brother that Salem thought him to be. The trios' attitude baffled her. If anyone should be punished it should be Dr. Byquist. He was the one who had spun the entire situation out of control. Elliot, innocently doing what he’d felt was his duty, had been ensnared in the debacle and caught in the middle.

      Saddened, that her behavior was causing Elliot grief, she pushed her sweet potatoes and lima beans around her plate listlessly until they encircled her meatloaf, and tried to tune out her grandfather’s recriminating voice.

      “Sleeping, the damned Cretan was curled up on the floor in the corner of the holding cell sound asleep when I got there. Do you have any idea of the filth? There had to be twenty mean bastards in there, but he didn’t give damn. Christ, Tyson how do you deal with him? Why have you tolerated him for so many years? I played hell waking him up. It was like he was home in bed.”

      “I don’t know Art. He’s slept; we have both slept in far worse places for a lot longer time. He was exhausted and he’s hurt so, he used the down time to crash. It’s what we’re trained to do. You rest whenever you can. Nala eat your supper. You have homework still to do.”

      “May I be excused?”

      “No you may not, Nala Brittany-Anne. Finish you supper. This little escapade has probably set us back quite a bit socially with the Academy. You need to be here to understand the ramifications of your actions.”

      “Really Sam, she is only guilty of not paying attention to the lesson. Something all of us are guilty of.”

      “That is true Tye, but she needs to learn that every action can set into motion a chain of events. I would think that you would understand this. You and that maniac Salem plan stuff out for weeks and weeks trying to cover all the scenarios.”

      Nala had heard enough. If her father was not going to defend Elliot then, she would. She slammed her fork down hard enough that some of her Lima beans hopped off of the plate and stood up knocking her chair over.

      “That’s it! Uncle Elliot didn’t do anything wrong. He came to get me, because all four of you had your phones off. All four of you were un-available because work comes first. He came even though he’s hurt and tired. He came and all they did is treat him horribly. They scolded him for being tired and for not following the dress code. Then they treated him like a criminal, because he’s the last contact on the list. Finally, when he tried to protect me, and that is what he was doing, the camera man was grabbing at me and had the lens right in my face and hit me here I have a bruise; he got fed up and diffused the situation. I am a minor and minors have protection from that kind of news abuse. The only criminal here is that idiot Byquist and his crime is stupidity.”

      “Enough Nala, sit back down now.” Rios growled. “You are not Salem and I won’t tolerate your outbursts like I tolerate his. This is the dinner table and you will abide by our manners.”

      “Your father’s right.” Art continued, “The only reason he couldn’t come to you is because Salem ate all of their food and he had to eat that Hard Tack and broke his tooth. So, it is Salems fault that he ended up there.”

      Nala sat gape mouthed staring at her grandfather. To her delight, her father was also now glaring at the man. That the detective would blame Salem for eating all of the duos food and the hard tack for breaking Tyson’s tooth as some sort of pre-precursor to the day’s events was simply beyond sensibility. He was she decided just as stupid as Dr. Byquist.

      “Nala just let…” Tyson began fully knowing that his daughter was finished listening and ready to give his wife’s father a real piece of her mind.

      “Grandpa, Salem didn’t eat the food. He barely eats on ops and if you think that dad’s tooth had anything to do with this you are as stupid as Byquist. He could have any of you could have at least answered the phone. Good night, I’m excusing myself.”

      Once safely ensconced in her room Nala turned on her computer and opened up her messaging application. She messaged Elliot and leaned back to wait for his reply. She knew that he was probably asleep and that he might take a minute to get to the computer, but she was certain that he’d reply. Finally, the unit chirped and his face appeared on her screen. He looked even more haggard than he had earlier so, she knew that he’d not been able to sleep.

      “S’up kiddo?”

      “Wake you?”

      “Nah, just reading. Just stretched out and dozy from the meds. Fucking cops really jacked my shoulder around. You okay?”

      “Just sick of daddy not sticking up for you. Just sick of ignorant self-righteous grownups. I hate all of them Dragon One!”

      Salem smiled a weak smile. It still hurt when Rios got in line with his many detractors to punish him, but years of tolerating the big man’s slights had dulled the ache a bit. Nala though, had far less tolerance, and more and more was quite outspoken when defending him. It was a trait that worried the younger man. He couldn’t afford to get in between the girl and her father.

      “I can take care of myself kiddo, but thanks for having my six. You still need me for show and tell next week?”

      “You’re changing the subject, Dragon One.”

      “Yup. So what’s the play?”

      “Gonna have to bring Daddy along to control you.” She said grinning mischievously, “We can’t have you acting out” She quipped, miming quotation marks by bending the pointer and middle fingers of her hands, “and you’ll have to be dressed appropriately.”

      “Full body armor?”

      “Yea, I’m thinking so. Then, I tell about you and do like a little biography and then you tell a little about you and maybe answer some questions”

      “Sure you don’t want to use your fat old man?”

      “Nah, he’s boring. You, you’re really cool.”

      “Need help to do the proof make up homework? We could work it online.”

      “Really? Hell yea! You’re not too tired? I’d love that, Dragon One. Let me get it and I’ll type it in and you get set up too. Back in a mike.”

      An hour and a half later Rios slipped into the girl’s bedroom and peered over her shoulder. In the top right corner of the screen was a small camera feed of Elliot and the rest of the screen was displayed an un-decipherable scrawl of math. Rios wasn’t stupid. He had enough math knowledge to do his job, but anything much above that was a mystery. Salem, on the other hand, had somehow managed to educate himself on the subject to quite a high level. Rios suspected that he studied on his own online or that he corralled Secour and Zac, and picked their brains. The man was funny that way. He’d just fall into a topic, completely engross himself in it for a time and then move on to his next obsession.

      “Working daddy. School stuff so, don’t holler at Salem.”

      “I can see that, Peach. What is that mess?”

      “Hey Tyse, this is all legit, bro. So, don’t spas out on us.”

      “I can see that, Ellie. How’s the shoulder? You need anything?”

      Elliot relaxed. Tyson’s voice held no hint of anger or disdain, so he figured that they were on good terms.

      “Nah, I’m set. Nala, the next line should be Distributive by Arithmetic. If we take the X and cancel it out, that gives us X times Psi sub- zero plus chi sub- zero over Y sub n minus one.”

      “Yup and then the next line, by the communicative addition gets us the final result and then working it back, I think that’s it Dragon One. Gimme five!”

      Rios watched her high five toward the web cam and Elliot’s tiny picture return the gesture.

      “Since you’re up Kermit, call me when you two are done.”

      “Copy that, we have one more and then, some lit stuff to check. Now haul ass, Tubby and let us geniuses work.”

      Once Rios had left the room Nala began giggling.

      “What’s funny And-A-Half?”

      “Daddy. He’s all cranky and follow my dinner manners and Salem needs to follow the rules and on and on and then once it’s just us three, he’s all Ellie this and Kermit that and Peach this. We both know that’s how he says he’s sorry.”

      “I hear you, I hear you, but I do wish sometimes that he’d just buck up and not throw me under the bus at all. It does fucking hurt. So, next up we have: f _f_ :R _n_ →R _m_ , and _x_ , _y_ ∈R _n_ , then _f_ ( _x_ + _y_ )= _f_ ( _x_ )+ _f_ ( _y_ ). Start us off And-A-Half.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

      Just as Rios was getting ready to work on a supply brief for Giddy his computer chirped alerting him that Elliot was messaging. He cleared the screen, opened his messenger and returned the nudge.

      “Get her squared away, buddy?”

      “Yea, she’s all set. What do you need, Tyse?”

      The question threw the big man a bit and he sat up straighter in his plush leather chair. He could see, judging from Elliot’s stern countenance that the man was tired and still somewhat out of sorts. Not, Rios knew, the best conditions for a conversation. The previous night’s panic attack and subsequent waking of Samantha was probably playing on his conscience and Tyson figured that Salem was expecting a stern reprimand.

      “Thanks for helping with her homework, it really is a huge help Salem, I mean that sincerely.”

      Salem frowned. Tyse was kissing his ass and he hated when the big man played that particular card. It also disturbed him that as a father he hadn’t taken the time to study the higher math and more critical Literature. If you chose to raise a child then, you had the duty to keep up. Well no, Salem re-considered, you had a duty to learn as much as you could about everything kids or not. Humans didn’t possess the beautiful gift of curiosity just so that they could search You Tube for mindless videos. There was an entire world of fascinating information out there free for the taking. The team though, did not share his enthusiasm and aside from tactics, to a man, they pretty much never learned anything just for the sake of learning it. They also had no qualms about harassing him over his various interests.

      “No worries, somebody’s got to do it. So, what do you want?”

      Rios looked at the slightly warbled picture of Elliot staring back at him. He sighed when the man reached to his right, refilled a small glass, a re-purposed empty eight ounce Grape Jelly jar, with Stoli and took a long sip.

      “You drinking _and_ hitting the pain meds, Elliot?”

      Here it comes, Salem thought, part one of his lecture about how to behave like a real human. The problem was, that he was in no mood for Tyson’s bullshit.

      “Yea, what about it?”

      “Just be careful, okay.” Rios said carefully. Even through the computer’s speakers the drop in timbre of Salem’s voice was readily apparent and it signaled that he wasn’t in the mood to listen to any lectures. “Look man, are you sure that you’re alright with this show and tell thing? You can tell her no.”

      “No, I can’t. I told Art thanks for getting me. All sincere and everything, but he just waved me off like was a piece a shit.”

      “Right. You don’t have…”

      “I do. I do, because if she was my kid I would, no matter how much it hurt or inconvenienced me do whatever she asked. That’s what parents do. They bend over backwards for their kids. Being a dad is more than just discipline and manners and rules and sending your kid to a school that costs more a semester than the GNP of most small third world countries. Fuck, that Yancy bitch’s desk had to be worth as much as a decent chopper. Being a dad means getting off of your fat ass and learning some Algebra. It means saying the fuck with how much your dental work hurts, and when you get home you turn your fucking phone back on. I know that you love her. I know that you provide for her, but you fucking listen to me for a change, Rios; she was hurt today that they had to call me. Me, the very last one on her little rescue list. She was glad, sure, because she knew I’d be all cool about it. But, she’s hurt that none of you was available. That none of you could stop and take time from your all-important lives to see what she needed.”

      “Point taken, Elliot.”

      “Good, now what did you want again?”

      “Show and tell, what are you gonna tell?”

      Salem pondered the query. He trusted Nala. He trusted her and hoped that any questions she asked about the job took into account his refusal to discuss work. If she failed, then giving her as honest an answer as possible was his only choice. Letting her down was not a viable option.

      “I guess whatever she needs me to tell. She knows me, she knows how I feel about rehashing water under the bridge. So, I trust that she’ll be fair. Do you want to do it? ‘Cause if you think I set her up to do this, to chop you off at your knees you’re dead wrong, Tyson. She asked me bro, I offered to concede to you.”

      Rios grimaced when Salem refilled his jar-cup. Leave it to Salem to see ten layers further into a situation than anyone else. Tyson hadn’t even considered the jealousy aspect of the situation.

      “No, not at all man, not at all. I’m not jealous just worried that she’ll bring up something and push the wrong button. She hears so much and sure she’s smart, but Salem she is just a kid and kids are not quite mature enough to read moods.”

      “Rios, the only mother fucker around here that hurts me is you. She hasn’t and won’t. It’s you and Heck and now and again Giddy and Art and your fucking wife and her mother, but Nala never. So, if we are done here, I think I’ll pass the fuck out and try to forget that my left Scapula is in two pieces courtesy of the United States Marines.”

      “Sure Ellie, sure. Just promise that you’ll call me tomorrow early. I don’t want to call you and wake you up. Okay, promise, to check in.”

      “Copy that, Salem out.”

      The screen went blank and Rios clicked back to the supply brief for Giddy.

      The next morning, during breakfast, Tyson decided to question Nala about how she planned on managing her show and tell assignment. If Salem wouldn’t hear his concerns then maybe the little girl would.

      “So, Peach…”

      “Why are you kissing butt daddy?”

      Rios shook his head and chuckled. “Have you talked to Salem since last night?”

      “Yup, 0345, we started planning out Operation Show and Tell.”

      “0345,” Samantha screeched, “You can’t get up and work on school with that lunatic at those hours miss. Tye, call him and put a stop to this.”

      Surprisingly enough Tyson ignored her and focused back on Nala.

      “So, what did you hash out? Pass me the syrup, Sam.”

      “Say please, daddy.”

      “Please, so, op Show and Tell?”

      “Well, I’ll need all of you now.”

      “All?”

      “Yup, the team all together. Well, not Pedro, and Fitz or Murray, but you guys, the core.”

      “Alright and then?”

      “Well, since we are supposed to incorporate a little of everything we are studying I am going to, well, me and my Dragon One are…”

      “Elliot, his name, Nala, is Elliot for god’s sake.”

      “Uncle Elliot and I are going to use Linear Algebra ideas to show how he became who he is today. We are…”

      Samantha nearly dropped her fork. The idea was so completely ludicrous that she gagged on the mouthful of pancake that she was chewing, managed to swallow it and stopped her daughter’s reply mid-sentence.

      “You are going to use Linear Algebra, a structured, mathematical method to define Salem? Don’t you think that maybe that might just be a thesis statement that you will fail at proving Nala? He is not exactly exact, or a quantifiable well, entity not to mention equations are stable by nature and we all know he is far from being stable. Back me up here Tye.”

      “Nope. We are all just the sum of the various variables that enter into our lives and act upon us. That and the different functions that act upon the variables. So, yup, piece a cake. Ready daddy, I don’t want to be late. That dufus Cranston Merriweather has an ass beating coming this morning at before class recess and I don’t want to let him down. After all, my Dragon One is a variable in my life and Merriweather’s black eye will be a result of his function: _f’ take no shit from anyone’_. It’s a simple equation. _E_ for my Elliot variable, plus _N_ for me acted upon by it, then acted upon by f the function, will equal two Merriweather black eyes, so: _f(E+N)+2(R h+Lh)= 2MBeyes. _Up and at em Papa Tank, my destiny awaits.”

      “Relax Sam. I’ll talk her down in the truck. I have eighteen miles.”


End file.
